Fall to Pieces
by chaviv86
Summary: Post "Last Dance". An encounter at the SRU highlights Jules's struggle to accept Sam's moving on after she ended their relationship. Sam is just trying to understand.
1. Chapter 1

"Fall to Pieces"

_Takes place after 2x11 – "Last Dance"_

"…so there I was, lying under the sink with my arm stuck behind the drainpipe, and Shelley was laughing so hard she misdialed the plumber three times…" Wordy wiped his forehead with a towel and smiled at the memory.

"Stop," gasped Spike, trying in vain to stifle his giggles. "You're messing up my crunches here!"

"Sorry, Spike," Ed grinned, jogging comfortably on the treadmill. "Workout time is story time. Tough it out!"

"Copy that!" Jules called cheerfully as she entered the gym. Six heads turned towards her from various places around the room as a chorus of greetings assaulted her.

"Hey hey!" from Lou, "Jules!" from Ed, "Good morning sunshine!" – that would be Spike, "Good to see you Jules," – definitely Sarge, "You missed a good story!" – Wordy there…

"I should come late more often," Jules quipped as she passed through the room, grinning.

_That's only five greetings,_ her mind processed beneath the smile she kept firmly in place. _Six guys, five greetings. Should be six, should be - _Jules's eyes stayed firmly ahead as she headed towards the door. _Is he here? I didn't notice – maybe he's sick? Is something wrong? Don't check - everyone's watching - just go the locker room, don't look, don't check, don't –_ _no – _

Damn.

For a second so short she couldn't have split it, Jules's expert gaze swept the room, whizzing over the familiar faces that filled it, until her eyes locked with those of one Sam Braddock.

Relief and indignance fought for dominance with equal vigor as she jerked her gaze away from his and headed for her locker room.

The slam of the dressing room door was of such an unusual decibel level that Spike once again messed up his crunches.

***FP*FP*FP*FP*FP*FP***

"So I was at Starbucks' last night…" Greg began.

Sam glanced over at the Seargant for a moment, then turned back to his fitness equipment and tuned out his superior. Grasp the bar and pull… and release, and pull… and release, and pull…

He was trying to think, trying to sort things out, but his mind was such a jumble of emotions that he couldn't pull out a straight sentence.

_She – I – she said – it was her decision – it's the rules – oh come on, it's not like – I mean – I didn't want – Anyways, that date last night – look, it's not like – sheesh, she makes it seem – I'm allowed to -_

He abandoned his thoughts of Jules and chose instead to focus on the music that was pounding into his ears from his iPod.

"_If I go crazy then will you still call me Superman…"_

The words of the song suddenly seemed to be mocking him and his tormented state of mind. With an unexpected rush of anger, Sam yanked his ear buds out of his ears, unwittingly releasing the bar he had been holding. The metal bar jerked back to the machine it had been pulled from with a resounding crash, bringing Greg's story to a quick halt.

"What the –" "You okay?" "What happened?" "Sam?" "Sam, you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm – sorry, I just –" Sam looked dazedly at the source of the racket, then glanced around. Five faces were turned towards his with varying expressions of mild concern.

"Sweaty hands," Sam clarified. "Bar slipped."

Eyebrows lifted around the room as skepticism replaced concern, but his teammates resumed their own workouts, and Greg picked up his story again.

"So the kid hands me my coffee, and…"

Sam took a deep breath and looked down at his earbuds. He had torn one clean in half, and come to think of it, his ear was stinging rather harshly. He now felt rather foolish.

Dropping the iPod onto the floor next to his water bottle, Sam turned and headed to the locker rooms.

It was only when he reached out for the doorknob that he realized his hands were shaking.

Sniper hands should never shake. Never.


	2. Chapter 2

Jules took a deep, even breath. Shrugging out of her shirt, she kicked off her shoes and shimmied out of her pants.

_The cool pants, _she thought for a moment with a wry grin, before unceremoniously dumping them on a chair.

Reaching up on her tippy toes, she pulled down a t-shirt and shorts from inside her locker. Glancing behind her, she paused for a moment to take in her rear-view reflection in the mirror.

_Purple bruise… yellow bruise… bullet scar… nice underwear though… something you wouldn't mind Sam seeing you in–_

A hot rush of anger flooded through her at the thought of Sam. She turned her back to the mirror and yanked on her t-shirt and shorts. Then, abandoning her workout for a few minutes more in favor of a little introspection, she climbed up onto the counter next to the sink and curled up against the wall, pulling her knees in to her chest and resting her head against the cool glass of the previously spurned mirror.

She wanted to think. She needed to think. She needed to _think_, dammit, and stop _feeling_, stop feeling this – this mess of – of –

_How could he – I wonder who she is – pretty girl, is she, Sam? Good in bed? It's not like – it was – it wasn't my fault it couldn't work between us – it's the rules, dammit – does he expect me to – he could have just – pretty girl, is she, Sam?_

Her hand reached out blindly and groped for the radio she knew she kept by the sink. Finding it, she turned the knob up, up, up, anything to drown out this awful –

"_Here I am, once again  
I'm torn into pieces  
Can't deny it, can't pretend  
Just thought you were the one –"_

Oh, this was so not helping.

"DAMMIT!!" Jules yelled in surge of fury. Swiping the radio clear off the counter, she sent it crashing to the floor, plastic cracking and batteries rolling to somewhere she'd never find them again.

"Dammit! Dammit! Dammit!" She was crying now, banging her head painfully against the wall behind her. She covered her face with her hands and wept, a howl of pure misery escaping her throat.

"Jules?"

_Oh, no – no, please let it not be him… anyone but him… _

Hurried footsteps approached her, and her wrists were encircled by warmer, stronger hands, which pulled them away from her face.

She blinked through her tears, and Sam's shocked face swam into focus.


	3. Chapter 3

_What the hell was that?_ Sam thought suddenly, his hand on his locker room door. Someone yelling? Is that – no! Jules – Jules is in trouble –

Every thought and emotion Sam had been experiencing disappeared in the moment that it took for the concept to register. _Jules is in trouble – help Jules – Jules – _

He sprinted over to the female dressing room, hesitating for only a split second before pushing the door open and running inside. He whirled around, fists clenched, prepared to fight off an intruder, protect Jules – protect Jules – _protect Jules – _

The breath left his lungs with a whoosh when he realized that there was no one in the room aside for its intended occupant, who seemed to be in a great amount of distress. Focusing his panicked gaze on her, a myriad of scenarios and worries as to the cause of her anguish crowded into Sam's mind.

"Jules?" There was no reply. He hurried towards her perch on the counter.

_Her hands ore over her face. Did someone hit her? Was she attacked? Protect Jules. Protect Jules – _

Sam reached out and gently took hold of her wrists, pulling her hands away from her face.

He searched her for signs of trauma, for bruising, for red marks – there were none beneath the streaks of tears. He touched her face, her stomach, her leg – was she hurt? _Protect Jules – Protect Jules – Protect – _

A stinging slap brought his whirling thoughts to a jolting stop. Jerking backwards and putting a hand to his burning cheek, he cried out, "Ouch! What was that for?"

Jules's eyes were blazing beneath her tears. Through gritted teeth, she said sharply, "Don't touch me."

"I – I want to make sure you're okay!" Sam shouted in consternation. "Did someone hurt you?"

Jules's mouth twisted and she turned her face to the mirror.

"Jules! Did someone hurt –" Like a sudden clearing of thick fog, understanding of the situation suddenly hit Sam. The confusion and concern froze on his face before his features fell into a grimace. What an idiot he was. Nobody had hurt Jules. Nobody but him, that is. She was flippin angry at him. Angry at _him_. She was mad – she was angry – she was – nobody had hurt Jules – she was just –

_Angry at me!_ Resentment exploded in the pit of Sam's stomach. He swallowed hard, looking at the lockers, at the walls, anywhere but at this woman, this woman that he loved, this woman that maybe he hated…

It took only a light swing for him to pull himself up onto the counter.

"Move over," he ordered.

"What?" Jules asked in disbelief.

Instead of responding, Sam placed his hands on her waist and nudged her to the left, creating a space between her and the wall which he slipped in to.

Jules gave him a look of pure loathing. "I told you not to touch me," she said.

"That's just because you're angry at me," Sam shot back. "You never seemed to mind very much before."

She gasped with indignation. "How _dare_ you," she said. "Get out of my locker room."

"No," Sam said stubbornly.

"Get out!" she repeated, more insistently.

"No."

The wind seemed to have been knocked out of her sails by Sam's unexpected refusal.

"Why?" she whispered, suddenly weak.

"Because you shouldn't be alone right now."

"Do you think you're going to _get _something out of this?"

"What the hell, Jules?"

"Sam, we are _not _together."

"Yeah, I got that part."

He sat in mulish silence. She stared at him, uncomprehending.

Sam leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes, concentrating on evening out his breathing. Jules continued to stare up at him until the angle began to hurt her neck. She turned to face forward again, this time silently studying Sam's hands, lying loosely on his lap.

_Why is he here? Why does he have to come, to always come, to try to be my hero – I don't need a hero. I don't need someone to save me. I need – I need – I don't need anything. I can do just fine by myself… I've done well enough so far, haven't I… I've done well on my own… Not that it isn't nice to have someone else around… Someone sitting next to me… _

She had begun to trace idle patterns in his palms when she realized that she was no longer angry.

_It isn't Sam's fault, anyway, this whole stupid situation. It's mine, really. I broke up with him, didn't I? "Dumped" him? Yes, but I'd had to – it wasn't my choice, and – and I love Sam. I really do. Which is why it hurts so much to think of another woman sharing his bed. I can't have him, but I don't want anyone else to… is that fair to Sam? And if he's found someone he could actually have a future with – maybe I should be glad for him instead of bitter…_

Jules looked up at Sam's face, suddenly noticing the lines etched in his brow. He looked so sad, sitting there next to her, his eyes still closed and his breathing so even she thought he might have fallen asleep – but then she touched his forehead gently, and his cheek twitched, and his eyes blinked open.

"Sorry," she breathed.

He looked at her for a long moment, taking in the lighter look in her eyes, the drawn lines of her face, the sadness that had replaced anger. Then he closed his eyes again, but this time his brow was not so furrowed, and his visage not as troubled.

Jules gently lifted his left arm and placed it around her, leaning against his chest. She moved around slightly to find a more comfortable position, then let out a deep breath of her own.

She would make up the missed workout later tonight. For now, she closed her eyes and listened to Sam's heart beating, and imagined that it beat only for her.

***FP*FP*FP*FP*FP*FP***

AN: My first ever fanfiction, so reviews are very much appreciated.

I compiled a very short video on YouTube to go along with the story - http:// www .youtube .com/watch?v=shJplS9E82 (Remove spaces in link).

I hope you like it =)


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